Kings of the Road

In the most recent of many vain attempts at self-improvement, I am cycling to and from work. I live at the top of a hill, so the way to the office in the morning is a breeze. The way back, however, is a beast. I seem to be sticking with it, though, at least so far, because of both my awesome levels of determination and the happy realisation that I can afford to give up on my existing press-up routine now that I’m getting some other exercise. Possibly more the second thing.

Some insights:

1. It is impossible for a cyclist to avoid being overcome with self-righteousness. I’m greener, leaner and meaner (in the economic sense) than all the bastard cars swarming around me and only partly because I can’t afford to run my own car and wouldn’t know how to operate one even if I could. This is a great feeling and one that frequently affords me the chance to swear loudly at (or at least think murderous thoughts about) my fellow road users, whose fault it almost certainly isn‘t, whatever it may be. A cyclist is quite simply never in the wrong.

2. Car drivers are more aware of the safety of other road users than cyclists. Because it isn’t our concern. We can’t hurt people (at least not really), but we can certainly be hurt. I have to say, though, that I expect a great deal more awareness and, well, competence from car drivers than I display myself. Me wobbling around (albeit at hilariously and possibly illegally low speeds) on a bike is basically the equivalent of a toddler behind the wheel of a car. Thank God most drivers seem to know what they’re doing, because I certainly don’t. I’m terrified that they will assume the same level of competency in me that I do in them. So far they don’t, possibly because of the aforementioned wobbling.

3. Good (by which I mean indulgent, patient and most likely pitying) car drivers treat cyclists like idiots. We require at least 1.5 metres of wobble room, dramatic reduction of your speed and probably a few extra minutes added to your journey, as well as constant vigilance. We offer nothing in return. Why, questionable moral superiority notwithstanding, do cyclists have the right to expect such indulgence from car drivers? We offer nothing and expect everything, it seems to me. Mystifyingly, this deal seems to be upheld on our nation’s roads. Flip knows why.

Cycling, then: practised by self-righteous, reckless and incompetent fools for their own benefit entirely. And car drivers get a bad press.

(Radio) One for all and All for (Radio) One

In the office this afternoon, there was a movement to fire up the aged communal hifi in order to listen to some music. A slightly awkward attempt was made to find a station palatable to all of us, which was eventually settled in favour of Radio 2. This was shortly dropped for Radio 1, but no matter, my point (there will be a point) applies to either.

I enjoyed approximately 5% of Radio 1. I can’t speak for my colleagues, but none of them were moved to dance either. It can’t have been that it was bad (though it was, dammit), because other people seemed to enjoy it immensely. Not my colleagues, but the endless stream of, to my mind, idiots that repeatedly and at their own cost called and texted the DJ. Dave in Godalming, for example, was having a whale of a time. “Heavy tune!”, he theorised. Someone else even went so far as to describe the tinny popfart that we’d all just gritted our teeth through as the “best tune in history” (I in no way exaggerate). That these people seemed to me to be actual cretins is neither here nor there. I dread to think what they would think of the stuff I listen to. Taste is subjective, which is news to nobody.

Although most people understand this, they fail to take the next logical step – that, in this wonderful market economy we live in, cultural output isn’t actually made to be everyone’s cup of tea. If I hear one more Guardian journalist ripping into the X-Factor, I may combust/roll my eyes, make inaudible tutting motions and carry on with my day. Yes, of course it’s shit, but that’s because pre-teens and idiots, who make up a huuuge percentage of the population, really like shit. It’s not for you, Mark Kermode. Similarly with the middle class's hatred of the Daily Mail. I mean, I find the bollocks they write as unpleasant as anybody. Doesn’t matter, though, they aren’t after what passes for my money. They get theirs elsewhere – from the thousands of angry, narrow-minded, moderately-educated (or they’d be reading the News of the World), lower middle class suburbanites that infest, sorry, reside in every area of the country. Everyone knows this, too. Marketing types even categorize people by their wealth, class, education, tastes and God knows how many other variables and attempt to flog them things accordingly.

What I find ridiculous, though, is the interest we all seem to take in what was clearly intended for others. Why are my middle class lefty friends (all of them, then) so hot under the collar about homophobic writing in the Mail? Alright, I’m being disingenuous – I know it’s because they (mistakenly, in my view) think the Mail influences what people think, but still. A better example is the X Factor. Why are you talking about how crap it is? Or how boring Radio 1 is? You’re right on both counts, of course, but what the devil’s it got to do with you? I think it’s a hangover from the days when there was so little cultural content produced that we all watched and listened to the same stuff/had the same experiences. Either that or we have nothing else to talk about. It’s probably that.